“It’s what I expected,” Gavin said. “We won’t stop until we find them.”
But though they searched the night through, they could find no trace of Sara or Colleen, the carriage, or the men who had driven it. They seemed to have dropped off the face of the earth.
Chapter 22
“Don’t you want anything to eat?” Colleen asked, when Sara waved away her offer of breakfast.
“I can’t eat anything. I’m sick every morning now.”
Colleen gaped at Sara, the reality of her marriage to Gavin only just now sinking in. “Ye be carrying his bairn?”
“I hope so,” Sara replied with a grimace, as a wave of nausea swept over her. “I’d hate to think I’m starving to death for nothing.”
“Does Gavin know?”
“I didn’t get a chance to tell him.” Colleen’s normally audacious gaze wavered before Sara’s accusing eyes.
“I didna know, otherwise I wouldna help Ian steal ye.”
“Why did you? What did you think you had to gain?”
“I want Gavin back. If it hadna been for ye, he would have married me.”
Sara’s gaze softened a little. “Do you love him?”
“Aye, I like him well enough.”
“I asked if you loved him,” Sara repeated, irritated at Colleen’s lack of understanding. “Would you be faithful to him and strive to make him a good wife?”
“Aye, I would,” Colleen answered angrily. “I am no rich, white-skinned virgin. Tis a big, healthy woman I am, and I would make him happy.” She stared at Sara, and her belligerent gaze gave way to confusion. “What can he want with ye? Ye canna ride a horse like a man, ye dance like an old woman—I ken ye would faint at the sight o’ blood—and ye havena the strength of a baby.”
“You don’t like me very much, do you?”
“I like ye a wee bit,” Colleen admitted reluctantly, “but ye be no woman for a bonnie lad like Gavin.”
“A man does not want the same thing in a wife that he likes in a mistress,” Sara told her. “I think it’s particularly unfair, but it’s true.”
“What do ye mean?”
“I haven’t learned a great deal about men yet, but I do know that even though a mistress can be as bold as she likes, riding horses recklessly across the hills and dancing until she drops from fatigue, a man wants his wife to exercise decorum, ride in a carriage, and always be calm and composed.”
“Nay, never a lusty lad like Gavin.”
“Gavin is a man just like every other man, who wants his wife to stay home and see that his household is run properly, and that his guests and tenants are provided for. He wants sons to defend his lands, and daughters to comfort his old age. His wife must add to his dignity, but never become a burden. Above all, he demands that she be faithful to him, even though he may take her money and spend it on his mistresses. If she is all these things and brings him a substantial dowry as well, she can be as ugly as sin and shrink from his touch, but he will wed her, install her in his bed, and put her in control of his household. And he will defend her with his last breath.”
“By gor!” Colleen exclaimed, shattered. “You would be all that for Gavin?”
Sara laughed softly. “That and more.”
“What more can there be?” Colleen wondered, certain no woman could do that much.
“I will be his friend and his mistress, too.” Colleen’s jaw dropped. “I will let him bring me his troubles, listen to his tirades, and take his side in every issue. I will give him advice, but will not blame him if he doesn’t take it, be at his side even when I disagree with him, and at night, whether he is tired or amorous, I will yield him the comfort of my body, taking as much pleasure from him as he draws from me.”
“By gor,” Colleen exclaimed, “how can I win against such a foe?”
“You can’t, because I have the one weapon you will never have—his wedding ring.”
“I have done a foolish thing,” Colleen said after a bit. “Gavin will be so angry, he will never want tae be my friend.”
“Forget Gavin, Colleen,” Sara said earnestly. “You deserve more than any man’s leftovers. You will make a good wife, if you find a man you can love and stick with him. Being a good wife is a lot like being an actress. You have to play every role, but you must remember not to mix them up or play them at the wrong time.”
Gavin drove his tired horse up the steep hill, ignoring the darkness that made his reckless pace a dangerous one. It would soon be dawn, the beginning of a second day without knowing where Sara was or what had happened to her. All night long, over two hundred people had scoured the district without finding a trace of her. Gavin had racked his brain, threatened every Fraser unlucky enough to cross his path, and driven his men to the brink of exhaustion, but he could not stop. He must find Sara, but where could she be?
Twice he had started for Blair Castle, to find Ian and beat the truth out of him, and twice he had turned back, worried about what might happen to Sara during another night, fearful of what might have already happened. He had to think. His emotions had kept him in the saddle through the night, but while Sara might appreciate knowing how much he cared for her, right now she’d probably appreciate a little cool thinking on his part even more.
He had become wonderfully content during the past months, but he hadn’t realized until now just how much she meant to him. He had become used to her company and used to her body, but he hadn’t known how much he depended on her emotionally, how much he simply enjoyed being with her. And after so many years of bitterness and anger, it was an incredible relief to lay aside the terrible burden and let her goodness salve the wounds that had gone untended for so long.
She had brought a gaiety and happiness to Estameer, which had been missing since he was a small boy. Despite their distrust of the towering Betty, the staff had already taken Sara to their hearts, and he had gradually become used to finding his house invaded by poets, musicians, and several women who found the sounds of Bach and Scarlatti more appealing than the shriek of bagpipes. He had not yet accustomed himself to the warbling of Elizabeth Cameron, Eric’s sister, but he could listen to Anne Grey’s harp for as much as fifteen minutes before making a dash for the brandy. He didn’t understand it, but he was proud that people seemed to naturally look to Sara for friendship and advice, as well as musical evenings and, Cod help him, poetry readings.
With an oath, Gavin pulled his horse to a halt, dismounted, and allowed the exhausted animal a drink of water and then a chance to graze. He decided he would not get back in the saddle until he had some concrete idea of where to look for Sara. What did he know and how much of Ian’s thinking could he surmise?
He knew that they had met Sara outside the gate before noon, but that no one in the village had seen the carriage go past, and it had not gone to the inn. Ian had left for Blair Castle before dusk, because he had been seen. So, where could they hide Sara that was only a few hours away by carriage? They had examined every building, cave, and crevasse on Fraser or Carlisle land, and had uncovered no trace of them, yet they had to be somewhere. They couldn’t just vanish.
It was the carriage that baffled him. There were no cottages along the road, and it had not been seen by anyone. Of course, you fool, he told himself, it disappeared before it reached the village. Now the question was, where had it gone, but he knew the answer almost before he finished asking the question. An ancient aunt of Donald Fraser lived alone in a house in the hills several miles off the road between Estameer and the village. As she was undoubtedly the meanest woman in Scotland—she was also extremely hard of hearing and nearly blind—everyone stayed well clear of her. The only person she had ever shown any affection for was Ian. Somehow, she must have helped Ian hide Sara. Gavin leapt into the saddle and put his tired horse into a gallop. He thought vaguely that he ought to go back for Donald Fraser, but he didn’t have time.
From his hiding place on the far side of the depression, which contained a small house and the several b
uildings surrounding it, Gavin watched Old Peg Fraser leave her home to feed and water her stock. She was accompanied by the largest staghound Gavin had ever seen. Obviously, his first task would be to reach the house without the dog catching his scent. He didn’t know how he was going to get past the beast a second time, especially with Sara along, but he’d figure that out once he found her. Gavin was on his feet and heading toward the house, approaching the buttery—it was a small square building with a hole dug in the ground where Old Peg kept milk and butter cool in the summer—when the wind shifted, until it was coming directly from behind him. His scent! It would reach the hound in seconds. Would it attack?
Swiftly Gavin took stock of his position. Unaware earlier that Old Peg was guarded by a huge hound, and not thinking that he would need to defend himself against an old woman, he had left his sword on his horse. If the dog attacked him, he would have no choice but to use his dirk or take refuge in the buttery. But hiding wouldn’t do him any good. He had to find some way to get to the house. Just at that moment, the air was split by a bone-chilling howl. The hound had caught his scent and was coming after him.
Quickly, Gavin rounded the buttery, flung wide the door, and positioned himself just inside. The hound could see him from a long way off, but that was what he was counting on. The buttery was a small building with steps leading down into a hole about six feet deep. He wanted the hound to attack at full speed. He would step aside just as the animal lunged for him, but the dog would be unable to stop before he tumbled into the hole. Gavin counted on being able to get out of the buttery before the hound could recover and climb the pitifully few steps.
Gavin had endured several experiences in his life which had tested his nerve, but none had been so difficult as to stand still before the galloping assault of a huge dog that measured nearly five feet at the head. His fangs would have done justice to the fabled tigers of India; his eyes were red with hate, and saliva dropped from his open mouth. Gavin thought of Sara locked up somewhere in Old Peg’s house, and his nerve steadied. All he had to do was time his move so the fangs would miss him. Two hundred pounds of snarling fury would be hard to fight within the close confines of the buttery.
It all happened in a split second.
Gavin waited until he could feel the hot breath of the savage beast on his skin before he leapt aside from the doorway. The small ledge seemed insufficient purchase when the hound lunged into the darkness behind him. The animal struck the wall at the back. For a second Gavin feared he was going to go right through the ancient wood, but a startled yelp and a deeper thud told him the hound had struck the bottom of the pit. Already Gavin was moving through the door, and dropping the bar into the cradle. He just hoped it would hold.
He sprinted across the yard to reach the house, quickly entered the rear door, and in so doing, surprised Colleen in the kitchen. Gavin darted forward, intending to lay hands on her before she could escape, but Colleen was so shocked to find Gavin less than three feet away and glaring fiercely enough to cause an even more stalwart damsel to shrink in fear, she was unable to move. Gavin was on her in an instant.
“Where is Sara?” he demanded, his fury-twisted features only inches from Colleen’s face. His hand gripped her wrist without regard for his strength, and the pain made it difficult for Colleen to think.
“What do you mean?” she asked, trying to gather her wits. “I’m visiting my aunt. I know nothing about your wife.”
Gavin’s hands immediately encircled Colleen’s throat. His thumbs thrust up painfully under her chin, forcing her head back with his fingers pressed hard against the bones in the back of her neck. “I can break your neck with just a tiny bit of pressure,” Gavin whispered fiercely, “then I can search the house at my leisure.”
“She’s upstairs,” Colleen gasped. “She’s taken no harm.”
“You’d better be telling the truth,” Gavin said, and released her so suddenly Colleen staggered and nearly fell. “Show me. I have no time to waste.” He forced Colleen to go before him, half-running and half-stumbling, until she opened one of the bedroom doors. Pushing her roughly in before him, Gavin’s eyes had found Sara even before he entered the room. He crossed the space separating them in an instant, and swept her up into his arms before she could utter the cry of happiness that trembled on her lips.
“Are you all right?” he asked, as soon as he could trust his voice. “They didn’t do anything to hurt you?”
“I’m fine,” Sara assured him, unwilling to leave the comfort of his paralyzing embrace. “The only discomfort I suffered was having to sleep alone.” She managed a smile. “No quantity of quilts can keep me warm like you can.
Then Gavin started kissing her all over again. She had become used to his kisses when they made love, but this was the first time he had kissed her with such fierce possessiveness, and it was the first tune he had done so in front of anyone else. But Sara didn’t think of any of that just then. She was too busy responding to Gavin’s kisses, exulting in the knowledge that he had told her more with each kiss than any words.
“How did you find us?” Colleen asked, breaking the magic spell of their embrace.
“It was easy, once I started thinking with my head instead of my heart,” Gavin said, putting his arms around Sara and holding her close. “I knew that old termagant would do anything for Ian.”
“Where is old Peg?”
“Still feeding her chickens, I guess.”
“She will turn that dog on you if she sees you! Even I can’t leave here without her help.”
“The dog is locked in the buttery, undoubtedly upsetting everything inside. Do you have a horse?”
“There’s the carriage horses.”
“Then you’ll have to wait until your uncle comes for you. I can’t get to them without being seen.”
“No,” cried Colleen. “The old witch will kill me. She hates me as much as anyone else.”
“My horse can’t carry three people.”
“Can’t you try to get one of the horses?” Sara asked.
“She helped kidnap you. Why should you help her?”
“You can’t leave her here, not if that woman will hurt her.”
“I’ll try,” Gavin said, giving in, “but if that beast gets out, we may all be torn to bits.”
Gavin helped Sara and Colleen mount his horse and made them swear to head for Estameer without waiting for him. He lingered until they had started down the lane, and then turned back toward the house.
The dog was still in the buttery, barking furiously at being closed in, and wild to get at the man who had imprisoned him. Old Peg had finished her chores and was heading toward the house. Gavin sprinted behind a low wall, climbed through a cow lot, stoically ignoring the squishing sound beneath his feet, and reached the barn unseen. He was putting halters on the two horses when he heard a rapid crescendo in the hysterical barking of the dog; it told him Old Peg was approaching the house. She probably couldn’t hear the dog’s barking, but it would be difficult to ignore the movement of the door. The huge dog virtually knocked the building off its foundations every time he threw his body against the door.
Gavin changed his mind about looking for saddles. The dog was hysterical now, and he expected it to be released any minute. He was leading the nervous horses out of the barn when a dramatic increase in the volume of the nerveracking howls told him the dog was free. It would only be a matter of seconds before he would reach him. Gavin flung himself on the back of one of the horses and kicked it vigorously in the side, urging it to its utmost speed, but these were coach horses, bred for strength and stamina rather than speed, and they considered a fast trot fast enough. When the deer hound rounded the corner and bounded after them, they broke into a canter, but Gavin knew they could never outrace the dog. These hounds had been known to bring down deer and elk armed with a full rack of deadly antlers. He would have little trouble with these domesticated horses.
As the hound bounded nearer, Old Peg rounded the corner o
f her house, shouting encouragement, her hate-filled soul furious that Gavin had escaped her fury. The hound leapt for Gavin’s leg as he pulled it atop the horse, but the hound’s fangs left a bloody slash down the horse’s side. The horse screamed in agony and bounded forward into a clumsy gallop, but not before the hound had slashed at its hindquarters, barely missing the hamstring.
Gavin was struggling to stay on the horse, determined not to let go of the second horse in case the hound brought the first one down, but he knew there was a good chance both horses would go down under him. He doubted he would be able to get to his feet twice before the dog was upon him. He dared not think what would happen then. He cursed himself for not being more heavily armed, but he had left most of his weapons behind when the Frasers agreed to help with the search. What he sorely needed was a pistol, but he had only his dirk. Driven by fear and the smell of blood, both coach horses were in full gallop now. Holding both reins as best he could with one hand and keeping his legs high, Gavin managed to take out his dirk; he was in the process of considering whether to chance a throw or save it in case he went down, when he saw his own stallion racing toward him, Sara and Colleen still on its back.
Gavin’s blood ran cold.
“Go back!” he shouted, but they paid him no heed. Gavin knew that his stallion hated dogs so fiercely, he would attack the hound on sight. This might save him from a savage mauling, but Sara and Colleen were bound to be thrown from his back. On the ground they would be at the dog’s mercy. Determined that Sara should not sacrifice herself for him, Gavin forced the terrified coach horses to race straight into the path of the oncoming stallion.
The horses came together with a terrible impact, and in the ensuing melee, the hound was unable to mount a lethal attack, but his slashing attacks at their hindquarters were cutting the carriage horses to ribbons. Colleen was able to slip onto the back of the second carriage horse, but they had to find some way to escape before fear drove the horses totally beyond control. Gavin also had to reach his own stallion, before the smell of the hound reached his nostrils and hate drove the huge animal beyond control. Even now, Sara was just barely managing to stay in the saddle.
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